


We Built Ourselves a Fire

by fictionalaspect



Series: More Adventurous [2]
Category: Panic At The Disco
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Canon Related, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-27
Updated: 2011-05-27
Packaged: 2017-10-19 20:22:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/204837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalaspect/pseuds/fictionalaspect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You want to watch something?" Brendon said, flopping back down on the bed next to Spencer. "I stole some of Brent's DVD's last week."</p><p>"You want to have sex?" Spencer said, before his brain caught up with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Built Ourselves a Fire

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short coda which takes place a month after the events of [More Adventurous](http://archiveofourown.org/works/86275). Featuring awkward first times, and also the suitability of spaghetti as a metaphor for life.

"Do you ever think about how weird pasta is?" Brendon said, giving his fork a thoughtful look.

"...No?" Spencer said, raising his head up from Brendon's pillow. He was propped up on Brendon's mattress, his own bowl of pasta resting on his stomach. Ever since they'd managed to replace Brendon's evil air conditioner with a slightly more functional one they'd scavenged from his neighbor's dumpster, Brendon's apartment had become a lot more livable. They could even turn on the stove long enough to boil water for pasta, a prospect that would have been unthinkable a month ago. It was a nice break from endless peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and microwave Ramen.

"It's totally weird," Brendon said, popping the forkful in his mouth. He was seated cross-legged across from Spencer, eating directly out of the pot. "It starts out as just one big sheet and then all of a sudden it's all these different shapes, you know? What if this little dude didn't _want_ to be a rotini?" He held up another noodle, dripping with tomato sauce.

"You're not allowed to hang out with Ryan anymore," Spencer said, after a long pause. "I think his crazy is rubbing off on you."

"Maybe," Brendon said, shrugging. "He's been giving me a lot of lyrics to read."

"Which is enough to make anyone crazy," Spencer pointed out. Spencer loved Ryan, he really did, but he could only listen to so much talk about star-crossed prostitute lovers before he started tuning him out. It was going to make them a great fucking album, but writing all the time did tend to make Ryan kind of strange around the edges. The other day he'd become convinced that the stain in the bottom of his coffee cup was a hidden metaphor; Spencer had had to remind him that reality existed, and that it didn't include precognitive coffee cups.

"I'm just saying," Brendon said, after another pause broken only by the sounds of chewing. "What if that rotini really wanted to be a spaghetti, and—"

"The pasta is not a metaphor for your life," Spencer said quickly, to forestall any further discussion of food-related symbolism. Then something clicked. "Wait," Spencer said, a little worriedly. "Wait, what's the spaghetti supposed to signify?"

"Huh?" Brendon said, blankly.

"If you're the rotini—," Spencer said, frowning, and Brendon started snickering.

"Now who's reading too much into shit?" Brendon said, grinning at him.

"I'm just making sure you're not breaking up with me via pasta metaphors," Spencer said. "It's a valid concern."

"Uh-huh," Brendon said, entirely straight-faced. "Totally valid."

"I told you," Spencer mumbled, hiding his face in the curve of his bowl. "Ryan's been weird lately. I don't need it rubbing off on you."

"Right," Brendon said, looking as though he was trying not to smile. "Uh, I was definitely just rambling about pasta, dude."

"Right," Spencer said. "Right, okay."

"And only pasta," Brendon said. "Stop freaking."

"Totally not freaking," Spencer said, looking up to see Brendon giving him an indulgent look. "No freaking out here. Was I freaking?"

Brendon raised an eyebrow at him, one that said, _I don't know, were you?_

"Shut up," Spencer said helplessly. Brendon snickered in amusement, and then went back to massacring the remains of his dinner.

They continued eating in companionable silence until Spencer's phone rang. Spencer raised an unimpressed eyebrow at the sound of Ryan's familiar ring tone. He'd upgraded it from "Milkshake" to "Hey Ya" a few weeks ago, and Spencer wasn't sure if he liked the change. There was something lacking in the impact.

"You're closer," Spencer said, nudging Brendon's foot. Brendon rolled his eyes and set the pot down on his lap, reaching for Spencer's phone.

"Smith's Escort Service," Brendon said, flipping it open and hitting the button for speakerphone. "Hourly rates and handsome young men, 24/7 availability."

"Spence, it's really creepy when Brendon answers your phone," Ryan said. His voice was thin and metallic through the small speaker. "He always hits on me."

"It's because we think you're the hot new teenage sensation," Spencer said, chasing the last noodle in the bottom of his bowl. "We can't control ourselves around your unbridled sexual energy."

"Right," Ryan said dryly. "Anyway. No practice tonight, we're off. I got called in to work a late shift."

"Fuck," Spencer said, frowning. "And you couldn't get out of it?"

"It's that or lose the job," Ryan said. Spencer could hear the wind rushing by him on the highway as he drove. "We need the cash for next month's rent on the practice space. "

"Damn," Spencer said. Ryan was right, as much as Spencer didn't want to admit it. They needed that cash even more than they needed an extra night of practice.

"So don't have too much sex," Ryan continued, and Spencer blinked.

"What?" Spencer said, but Brendon was already grinning at him, wide and amused.

"I think that means you have to take your hand off my dick, Spence," Brendon stage-whispered into the phone. "Seriously, stop, not while we're on the phone with Ryan. It's been three times already toni—"

Ryan hung up with a click, and Spencer snorted. "That was mean," Spencer pointed out, his tone mild.

"It was necessary," Brendon said, closing Spencer's phone and tossing it over next to him on the bed.

"I never said it wasn't," Spencer said. "But now he's going to get curious and want to know how I managed to keep it up for four rounds."

"And you're not going to tell him," Brendon said, winking at Spencer as he stood up. He held out a hand for Spencer's bowl, and Spencer let it go without complaint. He wasn't going to argue if Brendon wanted to put the dishes away for him.

Spencer closed his eyes, leaning back against Brendon's pillows and listening to the sound of Brendon rinsing off the dishes in the sink. Ryan always teased them about having sex; he seemed to assume that because they were both guys, they fucked day and night.

Which was true, sort of. Depending on what you counted as sex.

Spencer had done his research before getting too far into this whole him-and-Brendon thing. He knew that everything they did totally counted as sex because, hello, orgasms. It wasn't like he'd needed a roadmap to getting off with Brendon. It was just that in the month since they'd gotten together they'd sort of found a comfortable equilibrium and...stayed there. They were both busy as hell, and usually too tired to consider anything complicated when they finally fell into bed together. There was a lot to be said for lazy-ass handjobs when you had to both fall asleep and get up within the next six hours.

But now they had a whole night stretching out before them, unplanned and unasked-for. Spencer kept his eyes closed, and silently wondered if—well.

If maybe.

"You want to watch something?" Brendon said, flopping back down on the bed next to Spencer. "I stole some of Brent's DVD's last week."

"You want to have sex?" Spencer said, before his brain caught up with him.

Brendon quirked an eyebrow at him. "I figured we'd do that later," Brendon said. "That was sort of implied after the movie part of the evening."

"No, uh," Spencer said, his throat suddenly a little dry. "Like. I thought we could—uh."

"Uh?" Brendon said.

"Try some stuff," Spencer said, hurriedly. "Or I could. Try some stuff."

"Like what?" Brendon said, his voice a little softer.

Spencer swallowed. "Stuff," he said again.

"You're going to have to be a little more specific than that," Brendon said, but he was already leaning in to kiss Spencer. His voice had taken on that low, interested tone that was usually a prelude to a good time for everyone involved.

Spencer sucked in a breath.

"I feel really stupid saying it out loud," Spencer whispered, just before Brendon kissed him. Brendon bit down on his lip, and Spencer let his mouth fall open under the pressure. Brendon's mouth was warm and wet, slightly pasta-flavored. Spencer tipped his head back, letting Brendon take control of the kiss. Brendon's hands came up to rest on the curve of Spencer's jawline, pressing in slightly. Spencer opened wider, letting Brendon in, and Brendon made a pleased noise into his mouth.

"So show me," Brendon mumbled, into the kiss. He climbed on top of Spencer, settling down so that he was straddling his lap, holding Spencer down with his weight. It would be easy to buck Brendon off, if Spencer wanted to, but he didn't.

(If you had asked Spencer six months ago he never would have said _yeah, I like it when someone else takes the lead_. But everything with Brendon was different, somehow. It was weird. Spencer couldn't explain it, but it also seemed to get him off like nothing else, so he wasn't all that _invested_ in explaining it, either. All he knew was that when he felt the pressure of Brendon's hands holding down his wrists, the sting of Brendon's teeth on his neck, it felt comforting. Familiar. It made Spencer feel anchored to this spot, this particular point in time, even if that point was Brendon's shitty mattress on the floor of his equally shitty apartment. )

"I—I can't," Spencer said, breaking away eventually. He knew he was blushing. He felt like the lamest person on the planet. There was, he reflected, no easy way to say _hey, I want you to stick something up my ass and see if I like it._

"What you mean?" Brendon murmured, now entirely occupied with creating a path of bite-marks down the side of Spencer's neck. "Just tell me. Or show me. It's not that hard. Whatever it is—it's okay, Spence."

"It's weird," Spencer said. "Or, it's not weird, but it's weird for _me_ , and I haven't—I never. And maybe you have, but I was waiting for you."

"What?" Brendon said, pulling back a little with a confused expression.

"I was waiting for you," Spencer said, a little desperately. "This thing that I—I was waiting for you."

"Hold up," Brendon said, his voice quiet. He pulled back even farther, meeting Spencer's eyes. "Okay. I might be reading this totally wrong, so you should just tell me if I am, but are you saying you wanted to. You know?"

"Um," Spencer said.

"No, for real," Brendon said. "Are you? Is that what you're talking about?"

"I don't know," Spencer said helplessly. "What are _you_ talking about?"

"Um," Brendon said. "Sex?"

"Yes," Spencer said. "Okay. Me too."

They stared at each other for a long moment.

 _God_ , Spencer thought. _God, this is so dumb_. He wanted to just open his mouth and say it, but when he tried, again, the words just died on his tongue. Which was _stupid_ , because he'd been jerking off to the thought of Brendon fucking him for _weeks_ , had been imagining what it might feel like, how he'd be all open for Brendon, overwhelmed with it, and maybe that was the problem right there because that point in the fantasy was when Spencer usually came.

"But not the kind of sex we usually---" Spencer blurted out, just as Brendon stammered out "Okay, but you mean the kind of sex where we actually--?", complete with helpful hand motions.

"Kinda," Spencer said in a small voice, biting his lip and taking the easy way out.

"Wow," Brendon said, his eyes large and dark.

"We don't have to," Spencer said, in a rush. "It's okay. No big deal. Forget I said—" Brendon cut him off with a kiss, rough and bruising. Spencer gasped into Brendon's mouth. Brendon's hands were tight along Spencer's jawline, holding him in place. He bit down, sinking his teeth into Spencer's bottom lip. Spencer whimpered softly .

"It's a big deal," Brendon whispered, when they pulled apart to breathe. "That is a big fucking deal, Spence."

"Sorry," Spencer whispered back. He winced.

"No," Brendon said. His voice was gentle, but his hands on Spencer's skin were firm and steady. "Stop saying that, stop—-Spencer. _Spencer._ "

"Please tell me that this is okay and that you're into this," Spencer said tightly. "Or I'm going to freak out in about three minutes. Just so you know."

"Holy shit, I am so into this," Brendon said, kissing Spencer again, slightly more frantically. "How could you even—yes, god. _Yes_."

"Okay," Spencer said, slightly hysterical. "Cool. I'm glad we're all down with the sex."

"So down," Brendon said seriously. "So, so down."

"Literally?" Spencer said, before he could help himself. Brendon grinned at him. "Do you want me to be?" Brendon said, licking his lips slightly. "Because that could be arranged."

"Whatever you want," Spencer said faintly, tipping his head back. It gave him a strange sort of thrill to say it out loud, to let Brendon know that this was up to him.

"Duh," Brendon said faintly, leaning back so he could sit up and start tugging at Spencer's t-shirt and jeans. "Like I'm going to say no to blowing you. Don't come though, okay?"

"You say that like I have control over these things," Spencer muttered, and felt Brendon's hand squeeze his hip thoughtfully in response. Spencer opened his eyes and looked down.

"You kind of do," Brendon said quietly. "I bet you could. You want to try it?"

Spencer licked his lips. His throat felt dry.

"Yeah," Spencer croaked out, feeling lightheaded all of a sudden. "Um. Maybe."

"Just try," Brendon said, and then he leaned down and sucked hard on the head of Spencer's cock, his lips closing around the head. Spencer rolled his hips up, trying his best to essentially shove the rest of his cock in Brendon's mouth without actually choking him. Fuck, it felt good. Brendon's mouth always felt good, because it was _Brendon's mouth_ , but Spencer was suddenly breathless at the idea that he wasn't supposed to to come until after Brendon fucked him. He couldn't help the way his hips jerked up.

"Mmm," Brendon said, the sounds vibrating slightly in his throat. He opened his mouth wider, sucking hard. Spencer tried to breathe through it. He wanted to come _now,_ wanted to push and push and ride the wave out until he hit the breaking point. But he couldn't, because he had to wait.

Because Brendon had told him to wait.

Brendon circled his tongue around the head of Spencer's cock, pressing hard against the underside before sucking him down again. Spencer moaned. His voice was already starting to sound raw and broken. "I can make it if you don't tease," Spencer gasped out, because now Brendon was holding his mouth open wide, going all the way down but just barely touching Spencer's cock. "If you tease me, I'm going to come."

"Hmph," Brendon said, pulling off and raising an eyebrow. "You sure about that?"

" _Yes_ ," Spencer said, a little desperately.

"But then I could fuck you after, when you're all boneless," Brendon said. He blushed violently after he realized what he'd said, but Spencer just swore in response, bucking his hips up again. His cock brushed against the side of Brendon's cheek, and Brendon leaned in, pressing a kiss against the head.

"Maybe some time?" Brendon said, biting his lip and watching Spencer's face. "I mean. We could try it?"

"Okay," Spencer said, squirming restlessly. "That's nice. Good idea."

"That doesn't freak you out?" Brendon said, in a small voice.

"No," Spencer bit out. "No, Brendon, it doesn't, but I'm sort of--a little--" Seriously, Brendon was tracing his fingers over the head of Spencer's dick while he stared anxiously at Spencer, and Spencer was going to _come_ if he didn't stop that. Except every time he thought about how Brendon had asked him to hold off Spencer wanted to come _more_. Spencer gave up, pushing his knee upwards until he could nudge Brendon's fingers away from his dick, sighing with relief once Brendon stopped accidentally torturing him.

"Ooops, shit, sorry," Brendon said, eyes widening as he realized that he'd been teasing Spencer mercilessly. He pulled away at the second nudge of Spencer's knee, pressing a kiss to Spencer's thigh and carefully avoiding his cock. Then he sat back on his knees, pushing his bangs off his forehead with one hand. "Okay. We have—we need stuff. I need to go find it."

Spencer nodded, and then something clicked in his brain. "You don't keep lube next to your bed?" Spencer said, frowning. "You totally do. It's right there." He pointed to the left, where Brendon had a milk crate that doubled as a side-table.

"We need condoms," Brendon said, pushing back a little so he could sit up on his heels. "Don't we?"

"Um," Spencer said, his chest suddenly tight. "Do we?"

There was a long pause, broken only by the sound of the air conditioner.

"I guess we don't," Brendon said, at the same time that Spencer said, "I've never." It felt like Spencer blinked and then they were kissing again, Brendon on top of him, surrounding him. "I wasn't sure," Brendon said hurriedly, between bites and thick, overwhelming kisses. "I thought maybe. And I didn't want to ask—"

"Never," Spencer panted out, into Brendon's mouth. "Never with anyone else. Just you. "

"Thank god," Brendon said faintly, then blushed. Spencer just nodded, not trusting his voice. He didn't know how to explain what he was feeling, so he concentrated on breathing. There was something large and expansive in his chest, growing stronger with every passing second.

"I really fucking love you," Spencer whispered, before he could talk himself out of it. It felt like the words were being ripped out of his chest, like if he didn't say them he would no longer be able to breathe. Brendon smiled against his mouth, bright and beautiful.

"But seriously," Spencer heard himself saying, almost immediately afterwards. " You need to fuck me before I come all over you and ruin everything."

"And that would be such a shame," Brendon grinned, but he was already sitting up again and reaching for the bottle of lube stashed in the milk crate.

"It kind of would be," Spencer said, pulling his t-shirt off and shimmying awkwardly out of his jeans. Brendon had pulled them down only to mid thigh, and getting out of them was proving harder than expected.

"Like you wouldn't be able to go again in ten minutes anyway," Brendon said, but his eyes were dark as he watched Spencer undress.

"That's not the point," Spencer said, biting his lip and laying back against Brendon's single pillow. His skin felt hot under Brendon's pointed gaze. "So, uh. You going to get naked?"

"In a bit," Brendon said, sliding carefully in between Spencer's thighs. He lifted first one, then the other of Spencer's legs up, settling them around his waist. "I sort of want to just enjoy this."

"It would probably be more enjoyable without pants," Spencer said, and then forced himself to stop talking. He knew he was just rambling, trying to fill the silence. Brendon was looking at him so intently, so _carefully_.

"This is good," Brendon said softly.

"Okay," Spencer said. He let his eyes close as he heard the muted _snap!_ of the lube being opened. Brendon had one hand braced on his thigh, an anchoring pressure. Spencer was okay. He could totally do this.

" _Ohmygodcold_ ," Spencer yelped, his eyes flying open and his hips shrinking away from Brendon's hands without his permission. "Christ," Spencer said, trying to cover up his embarrassment at reacting so strongly—but oh holy crap, Brendon's hands were _frigid_. "What, do you keep that shit underneath the air conditioner?"

"Sorry," Brendon said, wincing. He looked down at Spencer, and then back at his hands, three fingers shiny with lube. "Um. Shit, was it really that cold?"

"Maybe it doesn't feel that way to you," Spencer said, swallowing hard. "But you totally just stuck your icy fingers in a seriously sensitive area, dude."

"Right," Brendon said, biting his lip. "Okay. Just let me—"

Spencer wasn't sure what he was expecting, considering Brendon hadn't even finished his sentence, but it definitely wasn't Brendon shoving his pants open and then reaching down to fist himself, closing his entire hand over the length of his dick and then adding more lube when it seemed as though his hand wasn't quite as wet as before.

"That's," Spencer said, and then had to pause to clear out the gravel in his throat. "That's. One way of doing it, I guess."

"Dude, this is totally the warmest part of my body right now," Brendon said. His eyes had fallen shut, lashes dark against the flush staining his cheekbones. His skin was golden in the low light. His mouth was wet.

It was like watching porn.

Spencer spared a moment to thank the gods of high-school sex, and then he nudged Brendon's thigh with his foot.

"Huh?" Brendon mumbled, blinking his eyes open with a dazed expression. Spencer tilted his head, giving him a pointed glance that implied exactly how much Spencer felt Brendon was deviating from the program, here.

"Right, right," Brendon breathed, letting his dick fall back against his stomach, still mostly trapped in his jeans and underwear. "I'm on it."

"Just do it fast before they get cold again," Spencer said, ignoring the way his stomach was clenching up with nerves. Seriously, if Brendon didn't get on with it soon Spencer was going to take matters into his own hands, never mind the fact that he had approximately no idea what he was doing. The anticipation was making him really jittery.

"Breathe," Brendon said quietly, tracing his fingers lightly over that same sensitive skin, barely brushing Spencer's hole. Spencer swallowed and then started counting his breaths, one of those weird relaxation techniques that Ryan used when he was trying to get in the 'zone,' or whatever. Spencer stifled a groan at himself—seriously, he couldn't believe his brain had conjured up _Ryan_ right now—and then he felt his mouth dropping open as Brendon slid his index finger in.

"Huh," Spencer said weakly, shifting back into Brendon's hand before he was even aware of the movement. Brendon's hands felt hot and wet, pressed up against the underside of his balls, and his finger inside Spencer was...yeah.

Pretty good.

 _Definitely_ new.

"Okay?" Brendon said, licking his lips as he looked down at Spencer. He looked exactly as breathless as Spencer felt. "You good?"

"Yeah," Spencer said, his head falling back against Brendon's threadbare pillowcase. It was good, it was just— _full._

"You like it?" Brendon said. Spencer frowned, lifting his head back up again.

"Yes?" Spencer said, giving Brendon an annoyed look. "What is this, the gay sex inquisition? Keep going."

"I, um," Brendon said. Spencer looked down at him, marveling internally at how he could, like, feel Brendon's finger moving inside him but from this angle he could also _see_ the flex of Brendon's wrist, the way his forearm tensed as he slowly started to move his index finger back and forth. It was weirdly hot. "I really like it," Brendon said, and Spencer snapped his eyes back up to Brendon's face, bright red with arousal and embarrassment. "I mean, I kind of—I always. To get off? Ever since I started, sort of, figuring everything out—hey, you want to try two?"

"Yeah," Spencer gasped, trying to focus through the rush of heat that had spread through him at Brendon's stuttered confession. Jesus. Spencer wondered if maybe—christ, they'd totally had phone sex a couple times, once they'd gotten past the overwhelming and unavoidable awkwardness, and what if that's what Brendon had been _doing_ while Spencer talked him off?

Brendon traced his middle finger around Spencer's rim. "Yeah," Brendon said, nonsensical, and then, okay, two fingers. Spencer moaned, pushing back against the sensation of Brendon pressing at his rim, of the second finger slowly slipping inside. There was a bright thread of pain underneath the pressure; something addictive that had Spencer bearing down on Brendon's hand before he had made any real decision to do so. His mouth fell open once Brendon's fingers were inside all the way. That sharp spike of pain was evening out into a thick, overwhelming endorphin rush; Spencer had never felt anything like it.

"Yeah," Brendon whispered. "That's it, come on." Spencer whimpered. His body was a mess of sensation, of snapping and crackling nerve endings.

 _Ahahaha,_ Spencer thought. _Ahahah oh my fucking god, that's my_ ass. _Oh, god._

"More," Spencer gasped, flailing out a hand to grab at the nearest part of Brendon, which turned out to be his shoulder. "Harder. More. _Something,_ Brendon, fucking hell." Brendon nodded breathlessly, mouth open, fumbling with one hand to find the small bottle of lube he'd discarded in the sheets. He flipped the cap open again and then Spencer felt the twin sensations of _wet_ and _pressure_ , a sudden thick slide.

Three fingers.

Spencer felt his mouth drop open, his voice coming out as an almost-soundless whine. Oh, god.

Oh god, he was so close all of sudden. Brendon's _hands—_ that addictive burn—and the look on his _face_ , the way he was staring at Spencer,. Like he wanted nothing more than this moment, this here-and-now.

Spencer groaned, spreading his legs wider.

"Fuck," Brendon whispered, and then Spencer blinked and Brendon was on top of him, surrounding him, the sharp nubs of his open zipper catching on the fine hair covering Spencer's upper thighs. He was panting into Spencer's mouth, slips of tongue hidden inside mumbled phrases.

"Just," Brendon said, pushing himself up slightly so he could reach Spencer's mouth, so he could sink his teeth into Spencer's lower lip. "Just, oh god, can we, are you—"

"Yeah," Spencer whined. "Yes, yeah, don't—"

"Don't?" Brendon panted, pulling away slightly.

"...Don't stop," Spencer finished, sinking his own teeth into the indentations Brendon had left just to revisit the sting. His skin felt red, hot to the touch, and he would have been embarrassed if Brendon wasn't already pulling away, pushing at his jeans with one hand while the other stilled inside Spencer.

"This is going to feel weird," Brendon said. Spencer nodded breathlessly. "Whatever," Spencer panted. "Just hurry up, _fuck._ "

"Right," Brendon said. "Right, hurrying, got it." Spencer felt him carefully pull his fingers out, and then watched as Brendon didn't even bother to wipe them off, just started tugging at his clothing as though he couldn't remove them fast enough. Then he was back, sucking more kisses into the side of Spencer's neck, tugging Spencer's right hand away from where it was clenched around a knot of tangled sheets.

"Wha?" Spencer panted, as Brendon roughly turned his hand, palm up, and then fumbled behind him. Then he blinked, because Brendon was squeezing another dollop of lube into his palm and guiding Spencer's hand down to his dick. "Oh," Spencer said, dumbly. He bit his lip, watching as his hand seemed to move of its own accord, slicking up Brendon's cock until it was shining. Brendon groaned in response, leaning down to nip at Spencer's mouth.

"You want to stay on your back?" Brendon breathed. Spencer clenched his hand around Brendon's dick at the words, nodding hurriedly. On his back was how he always—he'd always _imagined_ it like this, with Brendon on top of him. With Brendon moving his legs carefully, like _that,_ and climbing in between them, like _that,_ and—

"Please," Spencer whispered, at the first hint of pressure. "Just—-please—"

"Tell me if it hurts," Brendon gasped into his mouth, and then he was pushing forward, and Spencer's spine felt like a lightning rod, his whole body tensing up against the intrusion.

Fuck.

"I can't," Brendon said, and Spencer shifted, trying to push back against Brendon. He stopped—breathed—breathed again, and again—and—

"Spencer," Brendon mumbled, soft and overwhelmed. Spencer moaned. Brendon was sliding into him, inch by inch, and it kind of hurt and it was kind of amazing and all Spencer could verbalize, in that moment, was that he wanted _more._

"Harder," Spencer said, pulling at Brendon's hip, "Just go, go with it—"

"More lube, " Brendon said, shaking his head, mouth inches away from Spencer's. "Hang on, we need to—"

" _No_ ," Spencer whined, because it was _addictive,_ this ache, but Brendon was already moving back, pulling out almost all the way so he could slick himself up again.

And then he pushed back in, and Spencer forgot all about his protests, because _holy shit._

"Oh god," Brendon mumbled, his face mashed into Spencer's collarbone. Spencer couldn't breathe. He was so, so full.

"Do something," Spencer said weakly. He couldn't breathe, he could think. _Full._

"Yeah," Brendon said, breathless. "Yeah, good idea—" It was a roll of his hips, not even a true thrust, but it had Spencer groaning again, tugging his legs farther up so Brendon could get a deeper angle.

"Do that more," Spencer said, and Brendon laughed. "Pushy," Brendon murmured, into his ear, but he rocked forward again, burying himself in Spencer.

"Did you—expect—any—thing—less?" Spencer ground out, in time to Brendon's rocking thrusts. The burn was evening out into something itchy and restless, a feeling that had Spencer grabbing helplessly for his dick and pushing back against Brendon as hard as he could with the awkward angle. He didn't have much leverage, but he could— _oh,_ Spencer thought, as he tried clenching down experimentally. Brendon paused, whimpering, and then rocked back into Spencer with renewed force, fucking into him hard than before. Oh, _oh._

"I'm," Spencer groaned out. "Brendon, I'm—" He meant to warn Brendon, he really did, but then he was shuddering his way through an orgasm different from any he'd ever experienced; more raw, somehow. More intense, definitely, and when he came down it was to feel Brendon clutching tighly to Spencer's forearms, mouth open as he thrust into Spencer in a jerky, uncoordinated rhythm.

"Come on," Spencer whispered, into Brendon's waiting mouth, and Brendon surged forward, trying to kiss him but mostly just pressing at his mouth while he came with a short, sharp noise. Spencer could feel it, deep inside. His stomach gave a weak, desperate clench.

"Wow," Brendon said, panting. His eyes were slightly glassy, and he looked as though he was having trouble keeping Spencer in focus. His glasses were somewhere on the other side of the bed. Spencer had no memory of them being removed.

"Yeah," Spencer said. He tried to sit up, and was rewarded with a head rush that left him flopping back down on to the pillow. Brendon pressed a sweaty kiss to his temple, and then sat back carefully, trying to pull out with a minimum of awkwardness and mess.

Spencer winced at the sensation. _Ow,_ he thought, and then his brain made a full circuit back to the _reason_ for his ass feeling so goddamn sore, and suddenly Spencer almost wished Brendon had gone harder on him.

Because he was a pervert, apparently.

"Wow," Brendon said again, flopping back down next to Spencer. He handed Spencer something that he at first thought was a damp washcloth, but which turned out to be a damp sock. Spencer raised an eyebrow at Brendon.

"It's clean?" Brendon said, looking guilty. "Seriously. Uh. It's that, or my gross towels. I haven't done laundry in a while."

"You really know how to treat a guy," Spencer mumbled, shaking his head as he cleaned the worst off the mess off his legs and his ass. God, he needed a shower. There was lube _everywhere._ Spencer was pretty sure he was _actually_ sticking to Brendon's sheets, which, speaking of...

"Do you have other sheets?" Spencer said dubiously, throwing the dirty sock-cum-washcloth over the side of Brendon's bed. "Because this is going to get kind of gross if you don't."

"It's already pretty gross," Brendon said helpfully, tucking his head into Spencer's shoulder and giving him big, innocent eyes.

"Stop trying to distract me," Spencer said, giving him an unimpressed look. "You're not the one with lube in weird places."

"Hot places," Brendon said with a leer, which was soon replaced by a slightly guilty smile. "And, uh. How pissed are you going to be if I say I don't own any other sheets?"

"What about the ones my mom gave you?" Spencer said. "I put them in your bathroom somewhere. Under the sink?"

Brendon stared at him for a long moment. "...Why the fuck would you put them under the sink?" Brendon said.

"I was distracted," Spencer said. "It was hot that day. You were mostly naked. It was a thing."

"I should probably be flattered, huh," Brendon said, shaking his head and rolling off the bed in search of Spencer's mom's mysterious sheets. Spencer grinned to himself as he watched Brendon pad away from him. One of these days, he was totally going to get to fuck _Brendon._ That was going to be a good day.

"These?" Brendon said, from inside the bathroom, and then Spencer watched as a tangle of badly-folded floral sheets came flying through the doorway, landing on the opposite side of the hallway. "There's only the bottom sheet," Brendon said, poking his head back around the corner to look at Spencer. "Your mom totally gave me defective sheets."

"Your face is defective," Spencer said, wincing as he sat up. Something inside his chest felt soft and warm at the prospect of Brendon finally being comfortable enough to joke about all the random things Spencer's parents kept unloading on him. Brendon snickered as he walked back in the doorway, leaning over to start stripping the opposite corner of the sheets away.

"It looks like your ass might be a little defective," Brendon said, grinning widely as Spencer gingerly stood up. "Oh, wait, that's because I fucked it."

"You'll get your turn," Spencer muttered darkly. He was rewarded with the sight of Brendon biting his lip and flushing slightly, and Spencer smiled to himself as he helped Brendon strip the bed and wrestle the other fitted sheet on to his stained mattress.

"There," Brendon said, flopping back down so hard that the old mattress gave an anemic bounce. "Now get your defective ass down here so I can snuggle it."

"You make it sound so enticing," Spencer said, but he laid back down, albeit a little more carefully than Brendon. He turned his head, and was presented with Brendon's face an inch away from his own. Brendon's expression was suddenly serious.

"You're not actually hurt, right?" Brendon said. "Like. You're a little sore but that's okay, right?"

"It's fine," Spencer said, sneaking his hand across the minuscule distance so he could tangle his fingers with Brendon's. "It's, uh. It's kind of nice, actually."

Brendon cocked an eyebrow. "Nice?" he said, sounding dubious.

"Nevermind," Spencer said, flushing. That whole conversation was probably going to have to wait until he'd gotten his head sorted out. It was something having to do with liking the way Brendon made him feel, sometimes. With liking the sensation of the flat of Brendon's palms pushing down on his wrists. With getting off on the sting and stretch of Brendon opening him up.

 _Yeah,_ Spencer thought, letting out a yawn that surprised both him and Brendon. _Definitely dealing with that later._

"You sure?" Brendon said, but he was already rolling over, pushing his body backwards until Spencer got the hint and pulled him flush against his body.

"Totally sure," Spencer said, pressing another kiss against Brendon's thin shoulder. Brendon squeezed his hand in response, linking his fingers with Spencer's.

"I never cleaned up the spaghetti," Brendon mumbled sleepily, just as Spencer was starting to drift off. "S'on the stove. I left it there. I wanted to see if you wanted to bone."

Spencer snorted in amusement, because he was pretty sure he remembered Brendon oh-so-casually suggesting a movie. "You turned the stove off?" Spencer mumbled, because that was the important thing, and otherwise the damn spaghetti could just wait until later. "Yeah," Brendon murmured. "The pot's all gross, though." The last few words came out slurred.

Spencer considered getting up, but he was sleepy and comfortable. Brendon was lax and cozy in his arms, his breaths evening out into something comforting and familiar.

 _Fuck the spaghetti_ , Spencer thought, and fell asleep.


End file.
